“How did she do that?” Sarah asked.
Malloy frowned. “He said she got suspicious when Wilbanks kept leaving town, but now that I know Udall works for Hicks, I’m wondering if he didn’t get wind of it there and tell Gilda about it.”
“That’s certainly possible,” her father said. “Attorneys hear all sorts of secrets that they can’t tell another living soul but that anyone in their office might find out by just paying attention.”
“I’m guessing Udall paid a lot of attention to Wilbanks and his business because of his connection to Gilda,” Malloy said. “At any rate, according to Ozzie, Udall was the one who supposedly found out where Emma lived.”
“Wait a minute,” her mother said while Sarah was still absorbing what Malloy had said. “Gilda told us she had no idea that Wilbanks had a mistress until a few days ago.”
“Gilda must be a good liar, too,” Malloy said to her father, who nodded sagely.
Sarah was starting to think this whole encounter was a dream. Since when did Malloy and her father share confidences? Since when did her father defer to Malloy? Since when did her father defer to anyone at all?
“We believed her,” her mother said, oblivious of Sarah’s confusion, “so she’s at least a passable liar. What else did Ozzie tell you?”
“He admitted he’d gone to see Emma—”
“Only after Malloy let him know we already knew he did,” her father said.
“But he claimed she wasn’t frightened by his threats. She had the upper hand with Wilbanks and she knew it. Udall was the man he took with him the second time he visited Emma.”
“Was he the one who frightened her so?” Sarah asked.
“That’s what Ozzie claimed, but Udall said it was Ozzie,” Malloy said. “Ozzie wouldn’t frighten a fly, though, so it must have been Udall.”
“But regardless of who made them, Ozzie claimed she laughed off these threats as well,” her father said.
“Then we went to see Hicks, to find out why he didn’t tell Wilbanks his investigator had found Emma in Chicago and had been following her ever since.”
“I’ve been wondering that, too,” her mother said.
“Hicks claims that when the investigator found out Emma didn’t have Catherine, he didn’t want to worry Wilbanks, so he decided not to tell him anything until they knew what had happened to Catherine and where she was.”
“That’s understandable,” her mother said.
“Or self-serving,” Sarah said. “I haven’t made up my mind about Mr. Hicks yet.”
“Neither have I,” Malloy said. “But we couldn’t get much more out of him, and just as we were leaving, Mr. Udall introduces himself to Mr. Decker by claiming to have recently met his lovely wife.”
Sarah sniffed indignantly. “Didn’t he mention he’d met his lovely daughter, too?”
“As a matter of fact, he did not,” Malloy said, “which is only one more reason to distrust him.”
“I should think so,” her mother said. “And what did Mr. Udall have to say for himself?”
“Not much worth repeating,” her father said with a small grin. “Except to claim an unselfish interest in Catherine’s well-being.”
Which, of course, thoroughly frightened Sarah. “Oh, dear, and that leads directly into our conversation with Gilda Wilbanks and Mr. Udall. Gilda insisted that we produce Catherine to prove not only that she is truly Mr. Wilbanks’s child but also that she exists at all.”
“She’s not a very trusting person,” her mother said, “but then liars typically aren’t.”
“I thought you were going to upset her by offering to give her Catherine to raise,” her father said.
“We very quickly abandoned that plan,” Sarah said with a sigh. “Gilda is not easily intimidated, and she seems to have had a plan of her own, which was to assume we were only interested in using Catherine to extort money from Mr. Wilbanks.”
“That’s ridiculous,” her father said.
“Of course it is, but you can’t really blame her for assuming that. In any case, we left with both sides feeling stymied.”
“The only thing Sarah and I are now sure of is that we must allow Mr. Wilbanks to see Catherine as soon as possible. He’s really the only unbiased person who can verify her identity as one of his heirs, and Sarah and I have agreed we need to divert as much of Mr. Wilbanks’s fortune away from Gilda Wilbanks as possible.”
Her husband gaped at her. “Isn’t that a little cold-blooded, Elizabeth?”
“You didn’t meet Gilda Wilbanks.”
“And speaking of money,” Malloy said, “something Hicks said made me realize we still don’t know something very important: why Emma ran away in the first place.”
Her mother frowned at him. “What does that have to do with money?”
“Oh, sorry. Hicks said something that got me thinking. He said people usually do what’s in their financial best interest.”
“Do you disagree?” her father asked.
“No, that’s usually true, but in this case, Emma didn’t.”
“Yes, she did,” her mother said. “She came back to the city specifically to get money from Wilbanks.”
“But why did she run away in the first place? Wilbanks had just proposed to her, or at least that’s what he said, and we have no reason to doubt it. What could have been better for her than marrying Wilbanks? She would have had his name, his protection, and his money, too, and instead she ran away.”
Sarah couldn’t believe they still hadn’t found the answer to this. “You’re right. Anne Murphy said Emma ran away because she thought she was in danger, and she scared Anne enough to hide Catherine at the Mission.”
“But according to Ozzie Wilbanks, she had just laughed off his threats,” her father said. “So it seems unlikely she was frightened of him, at least.”
“Didn’t you ask her about that when you saw her?” her mother asked.
“I never got the chance. I did ask Vaughn, but I realized later that he’d never answered me.”
“So now you need to visit Emma Hardy again,” her mother said. “I don’t suppose you’d like some assistance.”
“Mother,” Sarah said, shaking her head.
“There are only two women involved in this situation, and since we’ve already visited Gilda, I’m afraid Mr. Malloy will leave us with nothing to do,” her mother said.
“I’m sure you’ll manage to keep busy,” her husband said with a knowing smile. “Mr. Malloy, I’d be happy to accompany you to see this woman.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary. Besides, I don’t want to take you to that neighborhood. You’d probably get your pocket picked.”
“Won’t you get your pocket picked as well?”
Malloy just grinned. “They’ll know I’m a cop.”
* * *
WHEN HE RETURNED TO THE LA PIERRE HOTEL THE next morning, Frank had no trouble with the desk clerk, who greeted him this time with an ingratiating smile and asked how he could help. He found Vaughn alone in his room, and amazingly, he was up and dressed. He’d even shaved, although he had a nasty bruise under his left eye. A half-full bottle of whiskey sat on the bedside table.
“What happened to your eye?” Frank asked.
Vaughn instinctively reached up and touched it. “Walked into a door.”
Drunks, Frank thought. “Where’s Emma?”
“Emma doesn’t tell me what she’s up to,” Vaughn said, smiling the same way the desk clerk had.
“I think she probably does, so if you want to avoid a trip down to Police Headquarters, you’ll answer my questions. Now where is she?”
His ingratiating smile vanished. “She went to see Wilbanks.”
“Wilbanks? What for?”
He shrugged. “She wants her kid back.”
“Wilbanks doesn’t have her.”
He shrugged again.
“Does she think he still has feelings for her?” Frank asked, trying to make sense of this.
&n
bsp; “Emma can be very appealing when she wants to be.”
“Ah, so she’s going to try to revive his affection for her. Doesn’t that bother you, Vaughn?”
“Why should it?”
“Don’t you have feelings for her yourself?”
“Her arrangement with Wilbanks doesn’t have anything to do with me.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember now. You used to visit Emma at that house Wilbanks paid for, and that didn’t bother you either. What kind of a man are you, Vaughn?”
“A practical one.”
Frank shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d seen men turn their wives and daughters out to sell themselves in the street. Compared to that, Emma’s arrangement with Wilbanks was almost decent. “There’s something I don’t understand, Vaughn, and maybe you can help me.”
“I will do my utmost, Mr. Malloy, if it means you will go away and leave me alone.”
“You and Emma had a good life when Wilbanks was keeping her, so why did she suddenly run away?”
He licked his lips, probably thinking he’d like a drink. “She didn’t run away.”
“She left her home, her protector, and her child, and the two of you left town without a word. That sounds like running away to me.”
“She was just tired of it, tired of Wilbanks and the kid. She wanted to be on her own again.”
“Then why not just tell Wilbanks he could have Catherine and come back to her life in the theater?”
“I . . .” His gaze darted around the room, then settled on the whiskey bottle. “She was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Of Wilbanks’s son. He’d come to see her. He said he’d hurt her if she didn’t give up on Wilbanks.”
“She wasn’t afraid of Ozzie Wilbanks.”
Vaughn’s eyes widened. “Yes, she was! Well, maybe not him, but his friend.”
“Ozzie and his friend told me she just laughed off their threats.”
“Of course she did, to their faces. She’s an actress, and she didn’t want them to know they’d frightened her. But she said she had to get away before they did something, and that’s why we left town.”
Vaughn was lying, but Frank wasn’t going to get the truth out of him without a lot of work, and he didn’t have time for that today. Maybe, if he was lucky, he’d be able to catch up with Emma, though, and maybe she’d tell him just because he asked. He left a grateful Vaughn, who was already taking a swig of whiskey before Frank had even left the room.
He rode the El uptown, and made his way to Wilbanks’s house. He’d probably missed Emma, but maybe he could get Wilbanks to tell him what she’d wanted. The maid took a bit longer than usual to answer the door, and when she did, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes wide with alarm, but not, Frank realized, because a policeman was at the door. Instead, she kept glancing back over her shoulder.
Before he could ask for Mr. Wilbanks, the faint echo of voices raised in anger came drifting down to them from the floor above, and the girl gave a gasp of dismay. Maybe he wasn’t too late for Emma after all.
“I’m with the police,” he said before pushing past her and bounding up the stairs, two at a time. She didn’t even try to stop him.
Frank easily found the source of the shouting. It was the parlor where he’d met Wilbanks the first time, and someone had carelessly left the door ajar.
“You can’t throw me out, and when I’m your stepmother, neither of you will be welcome here!” Emma Hardy said in a voice that probably carried to the last row in the theater as Frank stepped into the room.
Wilbanks sat in his usual chair, a lap robe over his knees. His face was scarlet, a bloodstained handkerchief pressed to his lips, and his eyes frantic. Emma stood beside him, her hand resting possessively on his shoulder, and her expression as haughty as he’d ever seen a woman’s face. Maybe he’d underestimated her acting ability. She glared at Ozzie and a woman who could only be his wife, Gilda, who stood before her and Wilbanks, their expressions outraged.
Wilbanks noticed him first, and the look in his eyes turned from frantic to pleading. Frank was pretty sure what he wanted, too. He cleared his throat, and the others turned to him in surprise.
Ozzie recovered first. “Mr. Malloy, what are you doing here?”
“I came to speak with Mr. Wilbanks. So nice to see you again, Miss Hardy.” To his surprise, she smiled.
“You could not have arrived at a better time,” she said. “I’ve just been telling Ozzie and his wife the good news. I’ve decided to accept David’s proposal of marriage.”
Frank wondered what Wilbanks thought about that, but from the way he was gasping, he obviously could not speak at the moment. Besides, Frank enjoyed Ozzie’s and Gilda’s reactions too much to care if Emma’s claim was true or not.
“Mrs. Wilbanks?” Frank said, nodding. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
Even furious, Gilda was lovely, but she didn’t waste any of her charm on Frank. “No, we have not.”
“My dear,” her husband said quickly, “this is Detective Sergeant Malloy with the New York City Police.”
“Good. Arrest this woman.” She waved her hand at Emma Hardy, who huffed in protest.
“I haven’t done anything wrong!”
“She’s trespassing,” Gilda said.
Frank looked at Wilbanks, who shook his head slightly. “I don’t think I can arrest Mr. Wilbanks’s fiancée for trespassing without his permission, but Miss Hardy, maybe you’re ready to leave. I’d be happy to escort you back to your hotel.”
Emma obviously knew when to make her exit. She leaned down to Wilbanks and said, “I think you should rest now, my darling, but don’t worry, I’ll be back tomorrow, and we can make our plans.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek, which drew a gasp from Gilda Wilbanks. Pretending not to notice, Emma strolled past Gilda and Ozzie toward the door, looking around as she went, as if taking stock. “What a dreary room,” she said. “I’ll have to completely redo it.”
Gilda gave her a look that should have knocked her dead, but of course, Emma paid her no attention. Frank nodded his farewell to the Wilbanks family and followed her out. As he closed the door behind him, he heard Ozzie say, “Father, I’m going to send for your doctor.”
The maid met them at the top of the stairs and escorted them out, returning Emma’s slightly shabby cape to her before opening the front door for them. Emma, Frank noticed, wore a singularly ugly hat and the reddish dress she’d worn the last time he saw her. It probably was the best dress she owned.
“What was that all about?” he asked as they walked down the front steps.
“You’re like a bad penny, aren’t you? What are you doing here anyway?”
“I came looking for you. Vaughn told me you’d be here,” he added at her questioning look.
“I’ll have to thank him for that,” she said acidly.
“You should be glad I showed up when I did. Another minute, and Gilda Wilbanks would’ve clawed your eyes out.”
“I’m not afraid of her or that milksop Ozzie.”
“What about that milksop Terrance Udall?”
They were halfway down the block now, and she stopped and turned to him. “Is that dear Gilda’s cousin? He’s harmless, too. Rich people are so used to having other people wait on them that they can’t accomplish anything themselves.” So much for Vaughn’s claim that she was terrified of them.
“Are you really going to marry Wilbanks this time?”
“Didn’t I just say I was?” She started walking again.
“Yes, you did, which makes me wonder why you didn’t do it a year ago when he asked you the first time.”
She looked at him sharply, and seeing he was serious, she smiled. “I didn’t want to.”
“Why didn’t you want to?”
“Mr. Malloy, you’re starting to annoy me.”
Frank grabbed her arm and jerked her to a stop. “And you’re starting to annoy me, Miss Hardy.”
She pulled her arm from his gra
sp and glared at him. “What do you want from me?”
“I want to know what made you leave your daughter and run away a year ago, and I want to know who killed Anne Murphy and why.”
“I already told you, I just got tired of Wilbanks and I wanted to get away.”
“So you left your child behind?”
“You can’t take a child on tour, Mr. Malloy. I thought I left her in good hands. I had no idea Annie would lose her.”
Frank could have argued that point with her, but why bother? “Are you really going to marry Wilbanks this time?”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because I don’t think he still wants to marry you.”
She smiled again, as if this amused her. “He didn’t want to marry me back then either. All he cared about was Catherine. I did him a favor by leaving town, and he did me a favor today by letting me scare his precious son out of what little wits he has. I was just getting some of my own back after they came barging in telling me to get out of their house. It’s not their house yet, you know.”
“Then you aren’t really going to marry him?”
“You just said you don’t think he wants to marry me, and you’re probably right. In any case, I don’t want to marry him either.”
“Why not? Isn’t marrying a rich man the dream of every chorus girl?”
“Not every chorus girl.”
“All right, so you still won’t tell me why you wouldn’t marry Wilbanks. Who killed Anne Murphy?”
“How should I know?”
“Don’t you have any idea?”
“Not a one.”
“That’s funny,” Frank said, “because I can think of at least three people who didn’t want you to find Catherine and might’ve killed Anne so you never would.”
“Who? Ozzie and his lovely bride?” she scoffed.
“And her cousin.”
“Yes, you’re right. I’m sure one of them did it. Why don’t you go arrest them?”
“Or maybe you hadn’t thought of them because you know who really killed her.”
“How could I know that?”
Frank met her gaze squarely, refusing even to blink, and watched her eyes narrow as the truth dawned on her.
“You can go straight to the devil, Malloy.” With that she turned on her heel and walked swiftly away.
Murder in Chelsea Page 15
